


Under the Table

by runningondreams



Series: Out of Sight, Not Out Of Mind [2]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Vague hints at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-21 06:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17038085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningondreams/pseuds/runningondreams
Summary: Tony's been thinking about Steve too much lately. It's time he did something about that.





	Under the Table

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cap iron man community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cap+iron+man+community).



> For the Cap-Ironman Community Gift prompts: “Library sex in Avengers Mansion” and “Steve and Tony are friends with benefits when they're between relationships” with a side of “secret relationship.”
> 
> Many thanks to comicsohwhyohwhy for the beta!
> 
> * * *

The first time Steve and Tony had sex, companionable movie watching turned into leaning shoulder-to-shoulder, and then into hand-holding, and then into careful caresses and eager kisses and Tony had found himself saying, “Fuck me,” and Steve had obliged. It was a little messy and a little awkward, but Tony’s taking that memory to his grave with no regrets. The second time had been after a sparring session: they’d both hit the gym showers and Tony had let his eyes linger on Steve’s bare shoulders for long enough that Steve looked back. They’d crowded into a single stall and turned up the water and jerked each other off in turns, swallowing each others’ moans to stop the sound echoing off the tiles. The third time, with a little more planning and preparation on Tony’s part, Steve had literally picked him up and fucked him against the wall. The bruises were _entirely_ worth it.

Now, they have something that’s almost a pattern. Almost. It only happens when they’re both between relationships. And both on the team, and thus, both living at the Mansion. There’s a strong inclination towards secrecy: private rooms and dark corners and late hours when no one else is expected to be roaming the halls. And there’s some other factor Tony hasn’t figured out yet, something to do with Steve’s mental state or metabolism or a certain type of mission or maybe the phases of the moon, who knows, it defies scientific testing despite his best efforts. So it’s not a thing that happens often. Certainly not as often as Tony would _like_.

It’s happening now, at half past one in the morning in the library. A moment of intimacy, Steve’s hand on his elbow; a moment of eye contact, unspoken intent; Steve steps in, closer, close enough Tony can feel his body heat even without touching, and then Tony reaches up and brings their lips together.

They don’t talk about it. They _never_ talk about it. Not directly. They don’t really talk _during_ it either. It’s all about nudges and body language and shifts in expression. Which is how Tony ends up directing Steve to a desk chair, because he’s been thinking about Steve too much lately. Thinking about Steve in his uniform and out of it, Steve pacing in the conference room and stretched out in his bed, Steve sitting at breakfast, at dinner, at the team meeting table, always greeting him with a cheerful, friendly smile. Some days, a lot of days lately, he wants to wipe that particular smile off Steve’s face with a kiss.

The expression Steve makes when he fits himself between Steve’s knees and half under the desk is a good substitute. He undoes Steve’s belt and unzips his jeans and coaxes his cock and balls free of his boxer-briefs and leans in to lick down the whole length of him. Steve’s breath hitches, and Tony follows up with another long lick before he takes Steve’s cock fully into his mouth in one smooth movement, pushing deeper until the tip touches the back of his throat. 

Steve moans like the sound is startled out of him. A shiver thrills down Tony’s spine at that. Managing to surprise Steve is always satisfying.

It’s been ages since he’s done this, but there’s a form of muscle memory: his body already knows what needs to relax and how to hold his jaw. The trick will be figuring out exactly what Steve likes best. He pulls back, just far enough that when he looks up he can meet Steve’s eyes before he extends his tongue beyond his lips for an extra caress. Steve’s pupils are blown wide, his mouth just slightly slack. He brings his hands up to cradle Tony’s skull, fingers running through his hair and exerting just a hint of pressure. 

Back down it is then, and oh, he’d forgotten how _good_ this can be. Having Steve on his tongue, taste and smell blurring into a single experience that flashes right past rational thought to his hindbrain. Something tight between his shoulders dissolves into heat that goes straight to his groin and he moans. Steve’s hips buck, just a little, pushing his cock deeper, and Tony closes his eyes and swallows as best he can, letting his throat adjust to the added pressure. Then he pulls back just far enough to breathe and sets a rhythm he knows he can keep.

He can’t get fully under the desk without hitting his head, but this is close enough for fantasy. Close enough that he can imagine doing this in some other circumstance, like a surprise conversation, or a phone debrief, while Steve tries to keep up appearances. It’s not something he wants in real life, but the _idea_ of it seeps through him, hot and sparking, and he loses himself a bit, moment after moment of leaning in and out, of the warmth of Steve’s cock on his tongue and the press at the back of his throat and the pleasure/pain pull of Steve’s hands in his hair. He lets go of the rhythm and goes deeper, pressing in and in until he’s gagging himself on Steve’s cock because _god_ , he wants Steve inside every inch of his skin, wants nothing _but_ this.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve groans, and his hands clench in Tony’s hair and his calves tense under Tony’s hands. A gentle nudge under his jaw and Tony draws back again. Steve’s expression is a picture of naked want, and between that and the way Steve’s hands smooth over his scalp and behind his ears, Tony’s pretty sure he knows what Steve wants before he even says, “Can I . . . ?” He hums agreement and relaxes his shoulders and lets Steve fuck his throat until he comes. 

The finish isn’t his best—he loses the angle in the last second and has to cough a bit after he swallows—but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, Steve pretty much just spills down onto the floor, pushing the chair back and kissing Tony hard and fierce, until sparks go off behind his eyes. And then Steve nudges and prods and strokes until he can pin Tony’s hips against the carpet under the desk, and then he opens Tony’s slacks and sucks him off with the kind of single-minded intensity he usually reserves for things like complex acrobatics and multi-stage tactics and tricky shield throws. Tony comes in a rush that feels like freefall, and the aftershocks as Steve licks him clean hit hard enough to make him full-body shiver. He would be quite happy to just, not move ever again. The library floor is the most comfortable place he’s rested his head in a while. 

He drifts a bit as Steve zips them both up and then lies down next to him, the whole long, well-muscled length of him pressed warm and solid against Tony’s side. Eventually Tony manages the focus to turn and kiss him, slow kisses, lazy and open mouthed and luxuriant. 

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs against his lips, and Tony smiles, satisfaction thrumming through his bones.

“Anytime,” he whispers back. 

He means it.


End file.
